


That can’t be right.

by twistedmiracle



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Because Draco certainly isn't!, M/M, Not Epilogue Compliant, Not that that is important!, • And all of them happen • Quite Coincidentally • To be about Harry, • Filthy fantasies • Detailed fantasies • Quite a lot of fantasies, • So don't read into that!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-06
Updated: 2015-09-06
Packaged: 2018-04-19 08:10:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4739090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twistedmiracle/pseuds/twistedmiracle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wherein Harry and Draco both discover that some things are just not what one expects.</p>
            </blockquote>





	That can’t be right.

**Part the first: Wherein Harry is a total sex fiend and absolutely everyone knows it.**

Neville collapsed poetically onto his bed, between Harry’s and Dean’s. He released a sigh so epic that Harry gave him a mock glare. 

“It can’t be _that_ bad, Neville,” Harry said, walking between their beds and nudging at Neville’s foot with his knee. “Everything is easy now that you’re a big war hero.” Harry and Neville both rolled their eyes, and Harry sat down on his own bed and laughed quietly. 

“But seriously, Neville. What’s the matter? You’ve been sort of down all week. And when even _I_ notice something like that….” 

Neville rolled over, curling up slightly, raising up his right elbow to pillow his head. He looked at Harry, eyes hooded. “Yeah,” he said. “I know.” He laughed darkly and closed his eyes, rolling onto his back. “When’s Dean due back?” he asked, surprising Harry. 

“Er,” Harry replied, then stopped to think. “He went to the library with Ginny. They brought brooms, too. They were hoping to go flying later, if the sun comes out.” Both boys looked out the window at the slowing rain. It had been raining for three days, but Hermione’s new-found weather forecasting spells kept promising that it was due to stop right around now. 

“Well,” Neville said slowly, “good. Because there’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you about, but I really don’t want anyone to overhear.” 

“Not even Dean?” Harry said, but didn’t wait for an answer. “Okay, what is it?” 

Neville raised his wand and shot a locking spell at their door without opening his eyes or turning away from the ceiling. He hit the doorknob square on and it glowed for a half second. Harry raised his eyebrow but said nothing. He’d seen how confident Neville had become with casting since they had returned for their “Eighth Year,” five weeks previous. 

Uncomfortable with the silence, Harry broke it. “It can’t be about casting spells. You’re ace in all our classes. I think you’re going to beat Hermione’s marks in Transfiguration.” 

“No,” Neville agreed, sounding defeated. “Not magic.” He rolled over toward Harry once more, again resting his face on the crook of his elbow. 

Harry was tempted to lie down on his own bed so he and Neville weren’t perpendicular to each other. He felt squirmy sitting there, not knowing what the hell this was about, what Neville wanted. “You’re killing me here, Neville,” he finally said, then winced at the sadness that appeared on Neville’s face. He could really be a rubbish friend. But with Ron not back at Hogwarts this year, it was time to learn. First lesson, patience. 

Harry slipped his trainers off and slid them under his bed. He looked at Neville, who still didn’t seem ready to talk, so he swung his legs up and lay back, finally resting parallel to Neville, and looking at the ceiling, too. 

Harry took a deep breath, let it out, and resisted looking over at Neville. Next he counted to fifty, then – when that wasn’t enough – started listing ingredients to The Draught of Living Death in his head. Everyone said it would be on their NEWTS. Finally, when he was about to check his textbook to remind him whether he needed Valerian root or a Valerian sprig, Neville gave a loud sigh and started to talk. 

“It’s, you see, people have been making fun of me.” 

Harry was too surprised to respond, and Neville continued into the quiet. 

“I’m sure you’re thinking I should be used to that, but this feels different. I’m used to everyone laughing at me because I’m not good at potions, or because I forgot something important, but until this year, no one seemed to think it at all strange that….” Neville fidgeted with his sleeve. 

“I, well haven’t, er….” Neville took an audible, deep breath. 

“There hasn’t been anyone yet who, I mean…”

Neville paused again, this time to twist the edge of his duvet cover. 

Harry found patience easier now that Neville was finally talking. Even if he wasn’t making any sense. 

“How many people have you had sex with?” Neville finally blurted out. 

“What?” Harry was shocked. He thought that was awfully personal. 

“I mean, we all know you and Ron and Hermione, separately and all three of you together, I mean, that’s obvious. Plus Ginny, I know. Dean told me himself.” 

Harry turned his head and stared at Neville with some horror, but Neville was still looking at the ceiling. 

“Everybody knows you had a lot of opportunity to bring home Muggles this summer, when you were living alone at Grimmauld Place, but no one knows how many you, er, you know, _fucked_.” He whispered the word, loudly; almost like a hiss. “But everyone agrees that you must have, because we all would, you know, if we were in your position.” 

“Neville…” Harry tried, but Neville just kept talking to the ceiling. 

“It must have been Muggles, though, right? Because if it were witches or wizards you probably wouldn’t have been able to keep it out of the paper? That’s what Parvati thinks, and it makes sense.” 

“Neville,” Harry said, turning his head. 

“Lavender and Seamus think that’s why you broke up with Ginny, too. I don’t, though, I want you to know that.” 

“ **Neville** ,” Harry tried again. He rolled toward Neville. 

“Though, I suppose, if you wanted to fuck a lot of Muggles and Ginny wasn’t cool with that, maybe that would be an okay reason to break up with her? I don’t think I really understand how all of this works.” 

“ _Neville_!” Harry said, and he sat up and put his feet back on the floor. 

“Harry?” Neville said, and he finally turned and looked at Harry. 

“So, everyone is gossiping about my sex life?” 

“Er,” Neville said, wariness coming into his eyes. 

“And Ron and Hermione’s sex lives?” 

“Well…,” Neville tried. 

“Yes?” Harry said. He felt like the hair was rising on the back of his neck. 

“Uh, yes?” Neville rolled over and put his own feet on the floor. Then he shifted toward the head of his bed, putting a bit of space between himself and Harry. “But, er, isn’t that what teenagers _do_?” 

Harry reached into his hair with both hands. “How the hell would I know, Neville?” 

Neville barked out one nervous laugh. “Look,” Neville tried again. “I’m sorry if you didn’t realize people were still going to talk about you, and I’m sorry because I obviously shouldn’t be talking about you.” He looked down at the floor and swallowed, then looked at Harry again. “But here’s the thing. I’m a virgin, and you aren’t, and it’s embarrassing for me, and I hoped you could help me figure out what to do.” 

“Neville,” Harry started. Then he stood up and walked to the window. The rain was almost gone, and he could see a student or two out on the lawn, bubblehead and umbrella charms distorting the flow of drizzle around their heads. 

“Remember when I was definitely the Heir of Slytherin?” 

“What?” Neville said, but Harry ignored him. 

“And remember when you all knew I snuck my name into the Goblet of Fire because I desperately wanted to be in the TriWizard?” 

“Er…” Neville said, and it sounded slightly thoughtful. 

“Please don’t forget the way everyone knew I stalked Sirius Black in order to kill him, the way Hermione and I were definitely seeing each other during the TriWizard because Rita Skeeter said so, the way Umbridge and Fudge were so reassuring that I was lying about Voldemort coming back, or the way Voldemort killed me as I was running away like a coward, and I was not caring at all whether or not everyone else in the castle got killed.” 

“Harry,” Neville tried, but Harry interrupted him. 

“Well,” Harry said, and he turned away from the window, “ _that_ is how many people I have ‘ _fucked_ ’.”

“So, not too many then?” Neville said, and he lifted half of his mouth into a smile. 

“Right,” Harry said. “But you know Neville, that might actually be the solution to your problem right there.” 

“I’m not following you,” Neville said, but he looked interested. 

“People believe all sorts of crazy shit,” Harry said. “From something you said earlier it sounds like Dean thinks Ginny and I had sex, even though we didn’t. And Dean and Ginny are _seeing_ each other. So, either she lied to him – which I do not believe – or he misunderstood something, or….”

“Or he made an assumption,” Neville said, understanding spreading across his face like a calming draught poured on a plate. “Yeah.” Neville stood up too, and walked to stand next to Harry at the window. The sun was coming out. “People make assumptions.” 

“They sure do,” Harry said. “Nobody makes fun of _me_ for being a virgin.” 

“But… you _are_ a virgin. Aren’t you?” 

“Yup,” Harry said. And he grinned at Neville. “I’ve only kissed two girls, and I’ve only ever had crushes on blokes. So, I say, all you have to do is get a rumour started. You don’t have to lie. Hell, in my experience, if you tell the truth, and say the rumour is false? Your denials just make people believe it even more.” 

“Hm,” Neville said. “How do you think I get the rumour started?” 

Harry sat on the wide stone windowsill and looked out. He could see two people flying toward the Quidditch pitch. One streamed a pennant of red hair. 

“Well, how did I accidentally convince the whole school I’ve fucked half of London?” 

Neville winced. 

“Sorry,” Harry said, although he wasn’t all that sorry. He frankly thought it was kind of shitty of his friends to talk about him behind his back, and that gossips deserved to feel bad, at least for a few moments. Even if it was Neville. 

“Well,” Neville said thoughtfully, “I think you really just convinced people by winning the war. Mostly. So I can’t just copy you.” 

Harry looked at Neville for a long moment, until Neville blushed and turned, straightening something on the shelf next to the window. 

“I think you need… to go out with someone,” Harry said decisively. 

Neville was still looking down at the perfectly tidy shelf. “If it were that easy, Harry…” 

“Go to Hogsmeade with me?” 

Neville looked up at Harry now, and tipped his head to one side. “You’d do that for me?” 

“Course,” Harry said, easily. “Hell, it can even be a real date, if you want. But either way, we should spend the night in Hogsmeade. Rent a room. Everything.” 

Neville’s eyebrows both went high. 

“I don’t mean we should actually have sex!” Harry clarified. “Not the first time we go out, anyway.” He winked at Neville and Neville laughed. 

“As a matter of fact,” Harry said, “why don’t we start the rumour mill going right now? We have a couple days to wait until we can go to Hogsmeade. Might as well give folks something to talk about before. That way, renting a room won’t seem sudden.” 

Neville opened his mouth, looking like he wondered what Harry meant, but Harry reached up and messed up his hair, then unbuttoned his top two buttons. 

Neville laughed and copied him. 

“We’ve been alone in here for a while,” Harry said. “Let’s go sit together in the common room.” 

Then he walked over and reached out with his right hand. Neville raised his own right, as if to shake, but Harry shook his head, smiling his amusement, and reached for Neville’s left. Then, he didn’t let go. 

“Unlock the door, Neville,” he said. And together, they headed down the stairs to the common room, holding hands. 

\- *** - *** - *** - *** - *** - *** - *** - *** - *** - *** - *** - *** - *** - *** -

“Seeing” Neville turned out to be surprisingly nice. Harry wondered through most of Thursday and all of Friday why on earth he’d never thought to ask Neville out before. Neville was funny. Neville was smart. Neville was unpretentious. But he wasn’t so humble that Harry felt pressure to constantly reassure him, which would have been annoying. 

Most important of all, though, was that since Neville was himself a war hero, he didn’t look at Harry with starry eyes. He never asked Harry questions about the war. And never once gushed out a teary ‘thank you.’ 

It didn’t hurt that Neville was now tall, even handsome. His brown hair was thick, and rich with waves. His brown eyes were warm and kind. He wasn’t the first guy Harry would have picked out of a line of suitors, perhaps, but as they studied together, played Exploding Snap, and even cuddled a little in the Gryffindor common room, Harry started to think that offering to help Neville out with the rumour mill had been one of his more fortuitous accidents. 

On Saturday morning Dean was still fast asleep when Harry returned from his shower. Neville winked at him, and they quietly got dressed in denims and light jumpers before tiptoeing out of the room and heading down to breakfast. 

As had swiftly become their custom, they held hands all the way down to breakfast. Harry observed some Hufflepuffs noticing their clasped hands as they approached a staircase that was slowly settling into place. One of the Hufflepuffs whispered something to a blonde head, and Harry suddenly felt sure they were talking about him and Neville. 

Sure enough, once they were all on the stairs, Zacharias Smith leaned forward and made kissy noises toward Neville. 

“Leave Neville alone, Smith,” Harry growled at him, feeling protective. He really disliked Smith. 

“Is Neville getting his reward for cutting up that snake?” Smith asked in a faux fawning voice. 

“You can’t even imagine what sort of damage I can do to the wrong snake,” Neville said, turning in place and stopping on the stair right in front of Smith. Even on the lower stair, Neville was almost as tall as Smith. Harry, on the other hand, was now shorter than Smith even on level ground. 

Harry turned as well, tapping his wand at his thigh. Neville crossed his arms across his chest, showing off his wand as well. 

“You _would_ misunderstand loyalty that badly, wouldn’t you, Smith?” Harry said, pretending a conversational tone. 

The other Hufflepuffs all reacted with confusion. One girl hovered near Smith’s back, while two more students rushed down the stairs, obviously not wanting to be a part of whatever was about to happen. Still two more hung off to the side, seemingly confused about how – or whether – to participate. 

Smith flushed an ugly, blotchy red. He said nothing more, but grabbed at the hand of the girl who had stayed near and pulled her back up the staircase. “Come along, Tremellia,” Smith sniffed. “Let’s catch another staircase down.” 

Harry and Neville watched the Hufflepuffs walk away, then Neville knocked Harry in the shoulder with his own. “Heh,” he said, simply. 

Harry smirked up at him. “You’re a lot better at snarky comebacks than I am. I like that.” 

“Let’s eat,” Neville responded modestly. “I’m starved.” They headed down to the Great Hall together. 

After breakfast, all the 7th and 8th years headed to Hogsmeade except Hermione. She Flooed to London to visit Ron, promising to say ‘hello’ from Harry and Neville. 

The weather was perfect and Hogsmeade with Neville was great fun. They laughed over butterbeers at the Three Broomsticks with a table full of Gryffindors, wandered through Honeydukes with Dean and Ginny, and eventually headed over to meet Ron and Hermione for dinner at Spoons, a new inn with a restaurant. Once Ron and Hermione Flooed in, the hostess led them to a large table in the center of the restaurant where they could be seen from anywhere in the room. Sitting there eating pasta, Harry laughed at Neville’s jokes, and decided he enjoyed having a tall bloke’s arm around his shoulder. 

Seeing both Hermione and Ron look at them with approval didn’t bother him at all, either. 

Harry worried at first that this wouldn’t be public enough, but Spoons turned out to be a popular choice for Hogwarts students. A cynical part of him wondered if many people had heard him the day before, making plans with Hermione. There was a table full of Slytherins eating at the table next to theirs, and Harry made sure to bid Ron and Hermione goodbye, get his and Neville’s room keys from the front desk, and go upstairs holding Neville’s hand before Malfoy and his friends even had a chance to order dessert. 

“Oh,” Neville said as he followed Harry into the high-ceilinged room and looking at the enormous bed, the large woven tapestry, the brocade coverlet, and the cherry wood furniture. “This is awfully nice. Much nicer than I’d pictured.” 

Harry walked to the window and opened the cream damask curtains. “I think we’ll see the sunset soon,” he said, and he smirked a little. He’d planned this really well. 

“I took the liberty of ordering us a bit of cider,” Harry continued, showing Neville the little basket of treats he’d paid extra to have delivered to their room. He pulled out two chilled bottles. “Pear or apple?” Harry asked Neville, and Neville blushed a little and reached for the pear cider. 

“You didn’t have to do all this for me, for a… deception,” Neville said as he removed the cap from his cider bottle and tasted it. A smile skittered across his face. 

Harry wanted to tell Neville it hadn’t been a deception, but – nervous – he decided that could wait until after their first kiss. “Good cider?” Harry asked instead, and Neville nodded, but he looked shy. Harry stepped next to him and put his hand on Neville’s arm. “I had a really good time today, Neville,” Harry tried, and he looked up into Neville’s eyes. Neville looked a little nervous, but he was smiling. 

“Me too,” he said. He fiddled with the top of his bottle of cider. 

Harry put his own bottle down on the windowsill, and then he gently took Neville’s away and put it next to his own. Then he reached up and put one hand on Neville’s shoulder and the other in Neville’s soft hair. 

_Are we really going to do this?_ Harry thought, then dismissed it. He wanted to give this a try. Spending time with Neville had been wonderful. They had this room for the whole night. The whole school thought they were fucking. He’d yet to kiss a bloke. Kissing Neville now was sort of the obvious next step. 

“Are we really going to do this?” Neville whispered as Harry drew near, but he let Harry come closer, and then they touched their lips together. 

After a few days of friendly proximity, Harry had anticipated a spark. Perhaps even a zing up his spine, or a curl of pleasure in his belly. He’d not felt anything like that when he’d _imagined_ kissing Neville, but he’d decided that didn’t mean anything. 

But the complete lack of actual sexual pleasure in this real touch of their lips, he realized sadly, probably did mean something. He pressed his lips harder against Neville’s, but it just made the whole experience feel more ridiculous. Kissing Neville was about as sexually exciting as kissing a slice of cantaloupe. He started to giggle.

Moments later they were both laughing so hard they could hardly breathe. Harry was barely able to spare a thought of gratitude for having put both bottles of cider down against the window, where they were unlikely to get knocked over. 

“Merlin’s saggy pants,” Neville choked out, laughing through his tears. “Now I know what they mean by ‘it was like kissing my own brother’!” 

“Thanks?” Harry choked out through his own laughter and tears. 

Neville elbowed Harry in the ribs. “C’mon, Harry, you know what I mean. You’re laughing too.” He sat on the bed and Harry sat next to him, winded and a little overwhelmed. “No harm done, right?” Neville looked sideways at Harry, and Harry turned his head to see, then turned his head away again, uncomfortable. He got off the bed to head for a chair near the window. 

“No harm done,” Harry agreed easily as he lowered himself into the heavy rocking chair. “I meant it when I said I had a really good time today. I’ve had a good time this _week_.” 

“I guess,” Neville said slowly, raising his head to look at Harry, “that that’s because we’re _friends_.” He grinned at Harry, tentatively, and Harry grinned back. 

“Brilliant friends,” Harry said enthusiastically. Poor Neville seemed to need some reassurance. Harry stood and looked out the window. He could see three students walking back toward Hogwarts. He wondered if one of them was Hermione, until a lamp’s light caught Malfoy’s platinum hair, making it glow. Nope, Slytherins. Harry watched them walk until they were out of the lamp’s circle. 

“I think I’ve realized something though,” Harry said, still looking out the window into the darkening evening. 

“Yeah?” Neville said, and he stood up and retrieved his cider. Harry reached over and picked up his own, glad to have something to do with his hands. 

“I think I would like to be seeing someone.” He flashed a short grin at Neville, before looking back into the new night. “Someone who feels a bit less like a brother!” 

“And more like a sister?” Neville teased. 

Harry let Neville see the shiver that took his spine. “Ugh,” he said with vehemence. “No. That’s why Ginny and I broke it off.” 

“Yeah?” Neville asked, but Harry thought he sensed a real question. 

“Yes,” he said firmly. “And let me guess. The whole school has been chatting about it since they realized, and everyone has a theory.” 

“Er,” Neville said, sounding a bit nervous. 

Harry took pity on him and waved the issue away. “It’s not important. Anyway, I guess I should be used to it by now.” 

”So, we both wish we were seeing someone, but not each other,” Neville said, apparently deciding that Harry’s relationship with fame and gossip was more than he could tackle on his own. 

“Yeah,” Harry said, and he sighed quietly and took a swig of cider. 

”Who do you really want to go out with?” Neville asked. 

“Dunno,” Harry said, and picked at the label on his bottle of cider. “What about you?” 

“Hannah.” Neville said promptly. “Hannah Abbott.” 

“Oh!” Harry said with surprise. “Then why didn’t you ask _her_ to Hogsmeade?” 

Neville turned bright red, then stood and walked to the window. “She has a girlfriend. I think.” 

“Who?” Harry asked. “Are they serious?” 

“I think she’s seeing Luna Lovegood,” Neville said, and he looked down at the windowsill and sighed. 

“Oh!” Harry said, and he stood up and walked to the window, clapped Neville on the shoulder and smiled. “Luna has a boyfriend in London! She’s seeing this total whack job, Rolf Scamander. He’s perfect for her! Ron introduced them.” 

“So she has a boyfriend _and_ a girlfriend?” Neville said, eyes wide. He sounded slightly scandalized, and very titillated. 

“No, I really don’t think so.” Harry smiled. He felt like a matchmaker. “I think she’s just very cuddly! She likes to sit on people’s laps and braid their hair.” 

“Hannah has really pretty hair,” Neville said, sounding hopeful. “So you think she’s actually available?” He smiled at Harry. Then he looked a bit upset. “What if she thinks I’m a loser for being a virgin?” 

“No one will think you are a virgin tomorrow,” Harry said. He finished his cider and reached into the basket for a scone. “And if it gets serious with Hannah, you can tell her the truth when you two know each other well, when you know she won’t make fun of you.” 

Neville smiled and clapped Harry on the back. “I think you’re right.” he said, clearly delighted. “Now we just have to get _you_ sorted!” 

“I’ve thought about this a lot over the last couple of days,” Harry said, his scone crumbling as he picked out the raisins. “I don’t know who I might want to see, but I think I’d like to go out with a bloke.” He nudged Neville’s shoulder and smiled at the floor. “A tall one.” 

Neville grabbed a chocolate frog and his bottle of cider and sat in the wicker chair. “Yeah?” 

“Funny one, too, if I’m asking for the moon. I’d like a bloke who can make me laugh. And I’d want to go out with a bloke who’s smart. Not, you know, _Hermione_ -smart–” He blushed as Neville laughed warmly. “–but a bloke who isn’t dumb, who doesn’t need me to explain stuff. And can maybe explain stuff to me, sometimes.” 

“But not all the time,” Neville said, and he winked, and bit into his frog. 

“I liked the way you shot that arse, Zacharius, down – just with words. I suck at that. And that you didn’t need reassurances from me. I wouldn’t want to go out with someone who was constantly asking me if he was good enough for me. Ginny did that once or twice and it absolutely drove me mad.” 

Neville nodded and drank some juice, waiting for Harry to continue. 

“So, you know, no starry eyes.” Harry blushed. “None of that ‘cooing over the war hero’ bullshit. No asking stupid questions about the war. No tearful ‘Thank you’s.’ I can’t stand that from random strangers, and if a guy I was seeing tried that, I think I’d throw myself into the Black Lake!” 

Neville laughed again, smiling. Harry sat on the windowsill and looked toward the room, but he wasn’t really paying attention to Neville right now. His eyes were nominally focused on the top of the door frame, but his mind was far away. 

“I guess it would be nice to go out with a handsome bloke.” Harry blushed. “With nice hair.” 

“Like… Justin?” Neville suggested, but Harry scrunched up his face. 

“Justin is nice enough, sure,” Harry said, “but he’s so… earnest. He’s a little too much of a suck-up for me to want to go out with him.” 

“What about Seamus, then?” Neville tried, but Harry was quick to knock that down, as well. 

“He’s such a Gryffindor,” Harry said, “and really, so am I. I think I want someone a little less… like me.” 

“Hm,” Neville tried, and he finished his scone. “What about that handsome blond guy in Ravenclaw, the seventh year. I think his name is Willem?” 

But Harry wasn’t interested in any of the blokes Neville thought to mention. In the end, Harry wondered, as they climbed into the one bed together, wearing pajamas, Neville over the sheet and Harry under it, if perhaps “there might not be anyone at Hogwarts for me, Neville. If not, I think I can be okay with that. I’ll be somewhere else next year, and I’ll meet different people. I don’t really _need_ to have a boyfriend this year.” 

But Harry fell asleep with a slight frown on his face. 

**Part the second: Wherein Draco is a total sex fiend and absolutely no one knows it.**

All the way back from Spoons, Draco stopped himself from ranting at his friends by sheer force of will. What the bloody hell was Harry Potter doing seeing a complete dork like _Longbottom_? Pansy and Theo wouldn’t understand, though. He knew if he let them hear even a small fraction of his thoughts they would, yet again, roll their eyes and say he was obsessed with Potter. They might even have the balls to say he wanted to _go out with_ Potter. Which was complete bullshit even if it was true. And he was beyond tired of people trying to tell him that that did not make sense. 

“Are you all right, Draco?” Pansy said shrewdly as they left a circle of lamplight, heading back toward Hogwarts. 

“Just writing that Transfigurations essay in my head, Pansy,” he lied, and patted her hand. 

He’d found years ago that, if he pretended he was wearing a crown, it would adequately convey the imperiousness befitting of a Malfoy. It was the fastest way to straighten his spine into iron, tip his chin to the perfect “I don’t care” angle, steel his jaw and clear his eyes. It was sometimes the only way he managed to lie to Pansy, who – he sometimes feared – knew him even better than Mother.

“I’m a bit behind on schoolwork this week.” He could almost feel that crown on his head, erasing the glint in his eye and the curl of his lip. 

She looked at him sideways but chose not to engage any further. It was rare that Draco fell behind on schoolwork, but not unheard of. Draco was grateful for the reprieve from her probing, and even more grateful for the brill prevarication he’d thrown out on the fly. It gave him the perfect excuse to retire to his bed and seal himself inside his curtains, under cover of a good bit of spellwork. Once they got back to Slytherin he made quick work of getting his teeth brushed and his pyjamas on, then kissed Pansy goodnight on the top of her silky brown head, nodded to Theo and Blaise, and shut himself up inside his curtains with his Transfigurations books and a large blank roll of parchment. 

He read for a few minutes, until he was confident that no one was going to bother him. Then he took the Glamour off the parchment and checked his nearly completed essay, making small corrections here and there, and then quickly writing a final summarizing paragraph. He spelled the ink neat and dry and rolled the parchment back up, stowing it away safely it at the foot of his bed with his books. Then he lay down, got his head comfortable on the pillow, and reached into his pyjama bottoms to stroke his cock. 

If it were _him_ in that quaint little Inn with Harry Potter… well. He would obviously be a sight more passionate than that earnest, simpering war hero. Draco might technically still be a virgin, but he was nonetheless certain that he was simply one hot man from being the most fantastic lover imaginable. He contemplated taking his lube and dildo out from their hiding place under his pillow, but decided that could wait until he was fully hard. It took some work to get all the privacy enchantments off them both, and he didn’t feel like dealing with that right now. 

Instead, slowly stroking himself root to tip, Draco sank into one of his favourite fantasies. Which, he took pains to explain to himself on a semi-weekly basis, was purely a fantasy and said nothing of any importance about Draco’s reality. 

> ”Mr Malfoy.”
> 
> The Wizengamot Elder very nearly _scowls_ Draco’s name, but bravely, Draco stands tall. 
> 
> “Yes, Sir?” he enquires, as though this were a social call, and not a sentencing. He remains cool and calm beneath his shabby robes and heavy chains. 
> 
> “We have chosen a sentence. You are hereby – ” he pauses to bang an enormous gavel, but Draco does not flinch, or even blink – “sentenced to serve as the Golden and Exalted Savior’s catamite!” 
> 
> A door opens behind Draco, and – sensing that Harry Potter had entered the room – Draco sits slightly taller but does not turn around. 
> 
> “Mr Potter,” the Elder simpers. “We hope this pleases you. Won’t you try him out, and tell us if you accept our offer?” 
> 
> “Of course,” Potter says, and then magic pulls Draco upwards by the chains on his wrists, drags a table over to him, closer and closer until he is shoved up against it. Then two hands smooth over his back and the chains attach themselves to the table’s far corners. Magic shackles Draco down, his weight now resting on the table. The hands raise his shabby prison robes to expose his naked, virginal arse. Saved, apparently unintentionally, for Harry Potter’s victorious dick. 
> 
> “Mm,” Potter says as he casually, proprietarily, caresses places Draco has heretofore kept quite private. “He might just do.” Potter snaps his fingers once.

Now Draco had left it too long, and hurriedly, he unspelled the enchantments that hide his lube and dildo. He opened his legs, slid a lubricated finger into his arse and sank back into his fantasy. 

> Draco’s mouth is sealed. He can’t so much as moan. And so, in complete silence, he listens to Potter shove his clothing aside, feels a hand caress his buttocks once, hears the slap of flesh and the slick of lube, and then – without so much as a finger of preparation – in one short, sharp shove – Draco feels an absolutely enormous penis force its way into his arsehole. It doesn’t hurt at all; it simply feels incredible, and Draco feels his erection form so swiftly that he’s grateful not to be balanced on his own two feet.
> 
> It is just his luck that when Potter shoved Draco’s robes up and away, he’d bunched them up a bit between the table and Draco’s cock. 
> 
> He wants to scream, either at the injustice or to express his physical pleasure, but no matter why he might, he cannot. And so, silent, Draco bears the theft of his virginity with tremendous grace and the fattest, hardest erection possible. It is wrapped up in the pad Potter has inadvertently made of Draco’s prison robes, pressed hard against the heavy table.
> 
> Potter is fucking him thoroughly, slowly pulling his heavy dick from Draco’s arse, then ramming it back in. As though leaving is torture and returning is the only possible remedy. He does this a thousand times, surely. A million. Far too many times to count, at least.
> 
> With one ear forced down to the table, Draco cannot see any members of the Wizengamot, and for all he knows they are all peering at his naked, speared arse and Potter’s cock with Omnioculars. But he bears his indignity with nobility and pleasure.
> 
> Potter’s cock is clearly incredible, and Draco can tell, even though it is the only one he has ever had. 
> 
> Potter has his hands on Draco’s arse. He caresses Draco continually, as though his hands love the curve of Draco’s skin as much as his cock clearly loves the clench of his hole. 
> 
> Too soon, Potter makes a trembling sound, and Draco knows Potter is on the verge of coming. Coming hard into Draco’s nearly virgin arse. Potter speeds his thrusts, and Draco feels his arse accept and welcome Potter’s beautiful brutality. 
> 
> Potter and Draco come simultaneously, but Potter’s release spills down Draco’s white thighs, while Draco’s is discreetly contained in the pocket of robes he’s been covertly fucking as a byproduct of Potter’s pleasured movement.
> 
> “Tell them I accept their gift,” Potter declares loudly, and then his chains dissolve into mist and Potter hauls Draco off the table and shoves him to his knees.
> 
> Draco looks up, past Potter’s softening erection. They are alone in the room. The Wizengamot has allowed Potter privacy, and they did not watch as Potter enjoyed Draco’s virgin arse. 
> 
> “You belong to me, now,” Potter states with satisfaction, and then the room disappears into nothing as Potter _Apparates_ away with him and his fantasy ends. 

Sighing quietly, his eyes drooping, Draco smiled as he hid his toys and went to sleep. Next time, he’d have Potter force Draco to suck him off. 

\- *** - *** - *** - *** - *** - *** - *** - *** - *** - *** - *** - *** - *** - *** -

Draco woke in a foul mood, preparing himself mentally for Potter and Longbottom to be all cuddly and disgusting, kissing and cooing all over the fucking castle. But to his surprise, they were neither snuggly nor angry with one another. If they were still together, they were hiding it convincingly. But if they had broken up, that was just as well hidden. What the hell had happened? 

Draco obsessed over the conundrum all day, until he finally understood. Those two hadn’t been serious. It was a simple fling, and now it was over. Draco decided Potter and Longbottom must have both gone into it with their eyes (and flies?!) open, and now that they had fucked, they didn’t need to again. 

Also, Longbottom must be every bit as bad in bed as Draco had assumed. 

\- *** - *** - *** - *** - *** - *** - *** - *** - *** - *** - *** - *** - *** - *** -

At lunch on Monday, Draco ignored his stew in favour of vividly imagining Potter stalking over and throwing Draco over the table. It was only when Goyle asked Draco to pass the green beans that he realized: not only was he staring at Potter, but Potter was staring _back_ , looking confused and a bit annoyed. Draco snarled silently across the room at him and asked Pansy to pass the green beans. He made sure not to so much as look toward that part of the room for the rest of the meal.

In Potions on Tuesday, Draco had every intention of concentrating on the lesson, but Potter was sitting nearby, and Draco had a perfect view of his neck and the side of his head. He kept getting caught staring, and eventually managed to stop. Or, at least, he wasn’t staring when the class ended. Not actively.

At breakfast on Wednesday, Draco was doing perfectly fine until fucking _Longbottom_ sat down next to Potter, and then Draco spilled coffee all over himself and had to hurry back to Slytherin for clean robes.

So what if he had a little wank while he was naked. It didn’t mean anything.

On Wednesday night Draco was once again able to pretend that he had undone homework. “Sorry Pansy, dear,” he said, hoping she believed he was actually sorry. “No socializing tonight; I simply must concentrate on the second half of this Muggle Studies assignment.” 

She leveled a look at him, and then tipped her head just the slightest bit to the left. Since they had been friends from the age of three, Draco knew this meant he had won, but he worked to keep this knowledge from reaching his eyes. (Or worse, his mouth). “I suppose that hiding yourself away in your bed does work for you,” she conceded. “Even I was impressed by that Transfigurations essay you emerged with a few days ago.”

“Thank you, my dear,” he said primly, and made sure not to skip back to his dormitory.

Once he was ready for bed, and sealed up within it, it took him all of thirteen minutes to complete the second half of his Muggle Studies assignment. He even did a thorough outline of his next Charms essay while he was at it, and read ahead two chapters in his Potions textbook for good measure. But when he was done, it was still only eight forty five in the evening, and he grinned as he hid his books away. The promise of a powerful orgasm was a strong motivator. He was done for the night _and_ ahead for the week.

No one else was back yet, Draco noted as he slid his books and homework into his trunk and locked them in tightly with a spell combination none of his friends had yet found a way to break. He slipped back into his bed, resealed all the spells on the curtains, and completely removed his pyjamas. He took out the dildo and lube, lay flat on his back, toyed with his hardening cock, and began to imagine a long, complicated and delicious scenario. Or more accurately, rework a plot he’d seen in a Wheezes Daydream he’d owl-ordered from their new XXX line. But Draco still thought of it as his own.

> ”You sent for me, my Lord?” Weasley says, sweeping into the throne room, sword clanking at his thigh, wand holstered visibly at his wrist. 
> 
> Draco raises his head and looks at the Captain of his Guard. The new uniforms are exactly as Draco had ordered. Intimidating, masculine, and (dare he say it) sexy. “Turn around, Weasley,” Draco says in his most indolent voice. That one particularly annoys the Captain of his Guard.
> 
> The leather straps under Weasley’s buttocks bring his arse tight and high. “Spread your legs a bit.” And, just as he had ordered, the codpiece is now visible from behind. In the new uniform, Weasley’s shoulders look broader, his waist smaller, and his wand more menacing.
> 
> “Face me again.” Weasley turns, looking – as always – respectfully just below Draco’s eyes. “It is just as I wished,” Draco says in satisfaction. “All the men are attired as such?” Weasley nods. “The enemy shall run in terror when they see you,” Draco says, and he smiles. “As everyone knows, the larger the penis, the stronger the magic. And clearly, my men have the very largest cocks.”
> 
> “Sir,” Weasley says sternly, but Draco can see his grin.
> 
> “It is time for the monthly inspection,” Draco says.
> 
> “Of course, my Lord,” Weasley says. “Your best men have disrobed from the waist down. They obediently await your word. Did you wish me to go first, as per usual?”
> 
> “Of course,” Draco says calmly. He watches as Weasley unbuckles his clothes to release his dick from the leather and cloth. Weasley, who has done this once a month for some years now, turns to the side once his cock and balls hang free, and holds out his soft – but long – cock for his Lord to see. Then he begins to stroke himself. 
> 
> “Do you require a bit of assistance?” Draco asks politely.
> 
> “It is always welcome, sir, if it isn’t too much trouble.” 
> 
> “Not at all,” Draco says, and snaps his fingers. A barefoot minion, clad in a scrap of green silk that shows off her full bosom and generous hips, slips from behind an unobtrusive curtain and kneels before Weasley without a sound. “Captain?” Draco barely hears her, but Weasley steps closer and teases her mouth open with his hardening cock. Draco watches her lips and tongue please his Captain, who is soon fully erect. He takes his thick, hairy penis from the slave’s mouth and displays himself unselfconsciously for his Lord. “Sir?” he says calmly. “Am I still of acceptable size and girth?”
> 
> “You are a fine soldier, Weasley,” Draco says, his own erection hidden under voluminous robes, “with a cock large enough to remain Captain of my Guard. It pleases me to watch you fuck her mouth until you reach your satisfaction.”
> 
> “My Lord,” Weasley says, and he grins down at the slave. “Open wide and deep, sweetie, I have something for you.” He puts only one hand on her head to control her, knowing from previous encounters that he must not block his Lord’s view.
> 
> Draco has to force himself not to stroke his cock while he watches Weasley fuck the chit’s mouth. He isn’t fond of ginger pubes, but cocks are always a joy. The larger and firmer the erection, the more Draco wishes to share the joy. But he won’t insult his Captain. The man works hard for him, and he deserves to fuck a pretty mouth without the distraction of his Lord’s exquisite cock on display. The one and only time Draco had indulged in a wank during Weasley’s private inspection, Weasley had tried to suck Draco’s dick himself. That is simply unacceptable. 
> 
> That is what the Elite men of the Guard were for.
> 
> Weasley comes with a small grunt of pleasure, and the slave takes his cock and come quietly, just as she should. She stumbles away when Weasley pats her head once, and – following orders – Weasley turns to face his Lord and display himself again, before putting his cock back inside his uniform and setting it all back to rights.
> 
> “Thank you, my Lord,” he says quietly. 
> 
> “She seems adequate?” Draco asks. “Shall I have her sent to warm your bed?”
> 
> “That would be lovely, Sir,” Weasley says. “But now, I assume, you wish to inspect your men?”
> 
> In answer, Draco simply smiles. 

In his dorm room, Draco put a bit of lube on his fingers, and began to wank more intently.

> Weasley calls the men and they file in. His top twelve Guards, nude from the waist down, and most of them hard. 
> 
> Frankly, with the other Guards on display all around them, Draco can’t understand how they aren’t all hard as swords. 
> 
> Taking surreptitious care that his robes hide his own erection, Draco sweeps off his throne and down to inspect his Guards in person. First, Neville Longbottom, who peers up nervously at Draco through his fringe. 
> 
> “I’m not sure this is adequate,” Draco says, disapprovingly. He holds Longbottom’s ordinary sized erection in his hand. “I told you not to orgasm at all this month, to see if that could make it bigger. Did you disobey me?” 
> 
> “No, my Lord,” Longbottom says, and he bites his lip in distress. “I haven’t had an orgasm in thirty-three days.” 
> 
> “Well,” Draco says, his voice iced over with disdain. “Clearly you need a better solution. I forbid you to orgasm this month, as well, but from here you need to head over to the Apothecary. Professor Snape may have something that will help you grow. Frankly, there are larger dicks in town, Longbottom, and if you wish to serve in my Elite Guard – let alone have the slightest chance at serving my cock – you are going to have to grow your dick a good bit larger.” 
> 
> “Yes, my Lord,” Longbottom says. “May I dress before I head over to see the Professor?” 
> 
> “Certainly not,” Draco snaps. “You will jog over there with this sad little erection on display.” He caresses it again, making sure it does not soften at the news. “And take care to mention that your arse is on offer. My gift. The poor man works so hard for me, he might as well take a little pleasure, and goodness knows, he isn’t getting it from that measly thing.”
> 
> “Of, of course, my Lord,” Longbottom says, and he jogs from the room. 
> 
> Next in line is Justin Finch-Fletchley. His erection is thick and hard, and Draco caresses it with some pleasure. “A fine cock for my Guard,” he says with approval. “I suggest you go find someone to help you enjoy this.” 
> 
> “Thank you, my Lord!” Finch-Fletchley says, and he strides off toward the harem. He is headed for the girls this month, Draco notes. He’d chosen boys two months in a row. Draco is pleased to see that the trend has not continued. He prefers his men to enjoy variety. He does go to some trouble to offer it.
> 
> “I see you’ve been circumcised, Anthony,” he says to his next Guard. “It’s not a bad look on you.” 
> 
> “Thank you, my Lord,” Goldstein says. “I am honoured to be the latest addition to your Guards.” 
> 
> “Well, circumcised or no, you’re more than large enough,” Draco says with approval as he strokes Anthony’s penis. It feels good in his hand. “What do you think of the uniform?” He doesn’t bother looking at Goldstein’s face. His dick is far prettier. 
> 
> “I’ve never felt so masculine or powerful, Sir. I believe it improves my confidence, and therefore my casting.” 
> 
> “Excellent news,” Draco says with approval. “And a lovely, lovely penis, as well. You’ve not been here nearly long enough to be my companion tonight, but if you perform well this month, I think you may well find yourself handsomely rewarded.” He is having trouble letting go of Goldstein’s dick, and it is starting to leak. He wants to taste it, but that would be too much honour for such a new recruit. “Go find yourself a reward in my harem this month, then,” he says, and reluctantly releases his Guard’s dick. 
> 
> “As my Lord wishes,” Goldstein says, a bit breathlessly, and he strides off toward the boy’s section of Draco’s harem, looking at Draco once, over his shoulder. 
> 
> Draco approves. A Guard is not generally encouraged to flirt with his Lord, but after Draco praised him so, well… it seems appropriate at this particular moment. 
> 
> “Finnegan,” Draco says to the next Guard. He takes Seamus’ erection in hand and squeezes it. He watches it jerk and leak in his hand.
> 
> “My, my Lord,” Finnegan says with some difficulty.
> 
> “As always, your penis is very handsome, and your erection is more than large enough to keep you in my service.” Draco strokes him wistfully, and – unable to resist – reaches around to caress Finnegan’s muscular arse. 
> 
> “My Lord?” Finnegan says hopefully.
> 
> He had been to Draco’s Chamber last month, and had enjoyed himself without reservation. “I won’t be taking you to my Chamber tonight, however,” Draco says sternly. “It has been reported that you failed to apprehend a thief just last week.”
> 
> “My Lord,” Finnegan agrees. He sounds extremely sad.
> 
> “Your loyalty and desire for me, though, deserve a reward,” Draco decides impulsively.
> 
> “Sir?” Finnegan says, hopeful and confused.
> 
> “I will allow you to wank while I hold you against my body,” Draco says. 
> 
> His Guards gasp, and Draco wonders if this reward is too large for a Guard who had so recently failed. Too late now, though. He can’t second guess himself in front of the men that way. “You have been a loyal and effective Guard for nearly two years,” Draco continues calmly. “And you have proven yourself a willing slave to my cock as well as an effective Guard most of the time. And this is monthly inspection, when you bare yourself to my eye and hand, to receive dismissal or reward. So, Seamus Finnegan, you are now permitted to press your arse against me and jack off. Men, watch Seamus wank. His cock is simply gorgeous.”
> 
> Seamus turns around and Draco clasps him tightly around the hip, pressing his annoyingly clothed erection into the cleft of his Guard’s lovely arse. With his other hand, Draco reaches down and caresses Seamus’s erection, and then searches underneath to stroke the soft, hairy skin of his balls. “You may wank now,” he says quietly, into Seamus’ ear, and Seamus comes on the floor in seventeen strokes. 
> 
> “My Lord, you honor me more than I expect,” Seamus pants. 
> 
> “Yes,” Draco said, smiling. “Well.” He thinks longingly about giving Seamus a kiss, but with regret, dismisses the idea. Mouths are for the one man that Draco honours above all others. For the man that Draco actually brings to share his bed for the night. Instead, he pats Seamus manfully on the shoulder and sends him off toward his harem. “I’m sure one of those girls can get that monster hard again in no time,” he says as Seamus walks out.

Draco lubed his narrow dildo, and spread his legs. He put more lube on his hand and stroked himself a little harder.

> Willem passes inspection, and Theo. Draco keeps Blaise back as his evening’s potential fuck toy, then allows Dean, Terry and Michael to choose slaves from his harem. Wayne Hopkins he also keeps back. His penis is veiny and eye-poppingly fat.
> 
> Now the only man left for Draco to inspect is Harry Potter.
> 
> “Potter,” he says sternly, reaching for the man’s massive erection.
> 
> “My Lord,” Potter says easily. 
> 
> Draco looks eagerly at Potter’s dick. It is the largest of any Guard. Even larger than Weasley’s. Even larger than Draco’s. He touches with a tentative hand and makes a small noise of longing. He steps closer and caresses Potter’s arse, slipping a finger into his cleft. He ignores Wayne’s quiet sigh of defeat.
> 
> “Have you grown since last month?”
> 
> “Professor Snape had an elixir to test, my Lord. I volunteered.”
> 
> “It seems to have worked,” Draco says with approval, stroking up and down Potter’s huge cock. “Perhaps Longbottom has a chance after all.”
> 
> “If I may be so bold, my Lord,” Potter says, “Longbottom’s cock may be a bit of a disappointment, but he’s one of your best Guards. He, for example, caught the thief that Seamus lost.”
> 
> Draco looks at Weasley, who nods. Draco continues to stroke the shaft of his Guard’s massive silken cock.
> 
> “I shall keep that in mind,” he says as dismissively as he knows how. But he is looking down into Potter’s eyes and smiling. 
> 
> “Blaise, Wayne, better luck next month. Go enjoy yourselves in my harem with my compliments.” Draco speaks without looking away from his Guard’s face or letting go of his erection. He steps closer to Potter, who grins at him with confidence.
> 
> “Weasley, all the rest of my Guard are on duty while my Elite sate their lust, correct?”
> 
> “That is correct, my Lord.”
> 
> “Then please, go fuck your way through my harem, enjoy the whore I’ve had tucked into your bed, and leave Potter here with me to enjoy his reward. I will see you at breakfast tomorrow, and I expect you to have a very large smile on your face.” 
> 
> Weasley probably nods before he heads off toward the boy’s section of the harem, but Draco does not notice. He is too busy stroking Harry Potter’s cock and leaning in to take his Guard’s first kiss of the evening.
> 
> They quickly retire to Draco’s bedchamber, where Potter pulls out his wand and performs the usual barrage of spells to secure and then seal the room. Once Potter is done, Draco pulls the rest of his uniform off, and pushes him toward the bed. “On your back, Guard,” he says happily. Once again he tries to remember why he only does this once a month instead of once a week. Or every night. Or twice a day. His harem has nothing on these big, beautiful erections. “Lube your cock. I’m more than ready to ride you all the way to heaven.”
> 
> Draco yanks off his jeweled dupioni silk robes and dumps them on the floor. Potter’s cock is now shiny with lubricant, so Draco, by now rather desperate to come, climbs onto the bed, straddles his Guard, and begins to slowly work himself down over his Guard’s fantastically large penis. “Oh,” he says, as he gingerly pushes his ring of muscle over the bulbous head of Harry Potter’s beautiful dick. “Been a while.”
> 
> “Oh, Lord. You are so gorgeous,” Potter says, and reaches up to stroke his soft fingertips down Draco’s ribcage.
> 
> Draco finally fits himself over the erection he’d painstakingly chosen for his evening’s pleasure. “You may touch my cock,” he says, after he’s adjusted. Harry takes Draco in hand and strokes in time with Draco’s rhythm. “Caress my arse,” Draco orders, and Harry obeys. “Move in time with me,” Draco pants as he speeds up. Harry begins to push his cock into Draco as Draco pushes his arse down around Harry. “You… may… kiss… me….” Draco manages, leaning forward, and Harry kisses him.
> 
> Draco comes hard, riding Harry’s cock and kissing Harry. Ineptly kissing Harry, he can admit, but he is so focused on that pillar in his arse that he doesn’t mind. He collapses onto Harry’s chest and snuggles down for a moment. His handsomest Guard puts his arms around Draco and holds him close. Draco sighs happily and reaches into Harry’s thick black hair to play and tangle.
> 
> “I want to feel you fuck me again in a moment,” he says into his Guard’s strong, muscular chest. “I’m really looking forward to having you come inside me.”
> 
> “My Lord,” Potter growls, and Draco shivers and rolls them both over without letting his lover’s cock slip free. “Pound me, Harry,” he says. “As hard and fast as you can. Show me your strength.”
> 
> Harry does.

Finally, Draco slid the dildo into his arse, set it to fuck him with a spell he’d learned in a book he’d stolen from Blaise, and came spectacularly all over his stomach.

> “That was just what your Lord required of you,” Draco says, so sated he could barely speak. “You will warm my bed tonight, and tomorrow, you may collect your reward in the harem, as your comrades did tonight.” He smiles and strokes his Guard’s cheek.
> 
> “If it would not offend my Lord,” Potter says to him in a low, rumbling purr, “Might I return to your bed tomorrow night, instead? You are so much more... exciting than your harem.” 

\- *** - *** - *** - *** - *** - *** - *** - *** - *** - *** - *** - *** - *** - *** -

On Thursday, Friday, Saturday and Sunday, Draco looked over at Potter as infrequently as possible, only to see that the damned Boy-Who-Lived and lived and lived again was usually looking at _him_. It was enough to make Draco scowl.

It wasn’t like Draco was _interested._ He simply wanted to know what Potter was up to. What terribly unlucky student or ten he was planning to fuck next. How he could stand to have everyone know what a complete slut he was. And how he managed to so much as _get out of bed_ despite how short and scruffy and simply _embarrassing_ he was. He was quite sure that he simply longed to find a time, a place, and a way to explain these pathetic inadequacies to Potter. 

So on Sunday after dinner, when Potter stared at him all the way through the meal and eventually motioned for Draco not to leave when his friends did, Draco stayed right where he was only because he was looking forward to insulting Potter to his face. 

It had nothing at all to do with the way his heart was pounding harder than the Hogwarts Express, the way his robes suddenly weighed six hundred pounds, or the way his entire upper body was – if he was lucky – at least a whole degree away from spontaneously combusting.

“I should like to talk to you,” Harry said in a thin voice, and Draco nodded. He tried to imagine his Malfoy crown, but Harry seemed to be staring at his mouth and he didn’t think he had made quite the impression he was aiming for.

“Have I something on my face?” he blundered out, and blushed hot enough that he felt it down to his nipples.

“No, er, I mean… yeah…” Harry said and he looked shifty, but Draco allowed him to wipe a gentle finger across Draco’s lip. 

“Is it gone?” Draco said, hoping the answer was no. 

“No,” Harry said, and Draco allowed him to touch his quivering lip once again. His cock started to harden and his heart pounded harder. It must have been audible. They were completely alone in the Great Hall and Draco decided that was unlikely to last.

“We should take this conversation elsewhere,” Draco said, and he rose – feeling as though he’d replaced his spine with an iron rod. He felt as stiff and hot as if he were ill with fever. His blood raced hard through his veins. He couldn’t think clearly.

“All right,” Harry said. “Yes.” He stood also and walked from the room, obviously expecting Draco to follow. 

Feeling like a fool, Draco did, and he walked a few steps behind Harry all the way to a disused classroom on the next floor. He didn’t like following, but it was far easier than attempting to use words.

Once they entered the classroom, Harry threw some cleaning spells around as though he knew what he was doing, and Draco felt like he should help, but he didn’t know how. Instead he Transfigured a broken chair into a small, clean sofa, and sat on it, scooted all the way to the right.

“Oh,” Harry said after a moment, and concentrated on cleaning around the new sofa for a moment, before he sat down and pressed himself against the arm on the left side.

Nonetheless, they weren’t all that far from one another. Draco had made a small sofa. Accidentally, obviously. Of course.

“Why do you stare?” Harry whispered, but Draco heard him. 

He lied without the slightest hesitation. “I don’t stare at you!” he declared, his imaginary crown perched high again.

“I _know_ you do, though,” Harry said, looking at the floor. “I mean, I think you do. Could I be wrong?” He looked up at Draco’s face, and he looked so tentative and unsure that Draco wanted to pat his hand, just to be comforting. 

“It’s just that… I see you looking at me all the time. I don’t know what it means and I feel sort of stupid.” Harry looked back at the floor. “You are so beautiful, you make me stupid.” 

Draco stared at him. He felt his mouth open. He would close it, but he couldn’t quite recall how one did that. His imaginary crown started to drip down the back of his neck. It tickled. He squirmed.

Potter dumped all his books on the floor and turned slightly, got a little closer to Draco.

Draco’s heart pounded.

Potter reached forward with one fingertip and caressed Draco’s mouth again.

Draco’s sweat pooled. His brain slowed down. This wasn’t actually happening. Draco couldn’t be here, right now, with _Harry Potter_.

Then Harry Potter reached his hand up, away from Draco’s mouth and around to the back of Draco’s head.

Draco felt his sweat drip from under his arms. He couldn’t understand how a person could be freezing cold and burning hot at the same time, and he thought he should probably ask Potter to bring him to the hospital wing.

Harry Potter pulled Draco’s head in closer to his, and kissed Draco softly on the mouth. 

So Draco climbed into Potter’s lap. 

Then they fell off the little sofa and onto the recently spell-scrubbed floor.

Draco simultaneously pressed his erection into Harry, cradled Harry’s head where it had smacked the wooden floor, shoved Potter’s books away and told himself that this was a terrible idea and he must stop immediately. 

Instead, he kissed Harry again, and this time, he opened his mouth.

Harry did not stop either. Instead, he sucked on Draco’s tongue and grabbed Draco’s arse.

Having Harry’s hands on his arse changed everything. Draco lost all self control, all inhibitions, and he reached for Harry’s flies and tried to wrench them open. Harry looked stunned for a moment, then began to help. Soon their cocks were both out and Draco couldn’t possibly know whether it was better to get an eyeful or a handful.

Happily, Harry Potter had no such uncertainty, and he took charge. Then Merlin shined his heavenly light upon them, Salazar Slytherin clapped Gryffindor on the shoulder, cute angels sang, and Harry and Draco’s cocks were rubbing hard against one another. It was without any question the best sensation in the history of nerve endings.

Draco orgasmed spectacularly all over their clothes and was vaguely aware that Potter seemed to have had an orgasm as well.

They sprang apart and cleaned themselves up. 

“This was a terrible error and it must never happen again!” Draco declared imperiously, searching his mind for his imaginary crown.

He didn’t quite find it, but he strode out the door anyway and high tailed it back to his dorm room, where he went to bed. Eight in the evening wasn’t that early.

He didn’t wank. He didn’t need to.

He avoided Potter all day Monday and tried to avoid him all day Tuesday, as well.

After a brutally swift lunch on Tuesday, Draco decided that a nice long wank was in order. Purely because it would help him stay away from Potter, of course. He hid inside his bed curtains, nude and lubed, his dildo in his arse. He spelled it to fuck him very slowly as he dreamed about nothing in particular. Really, all fantasies were the same, and none of them meant anything at all. They were simply the fastest way to come, and come hard.

> “I’ll admit, Malfoy,” Potter says confidently. “I’m surprised you were even able to read my advert. The Prophet staff assured me that only sincere and _qualified_ candidates would even be able to see it.”
> 
> Draco simply nods. His sincerity and qualifications are easy enough to prove, and he needs this job.
> 
> Potter looks at Draco shrewdly for a long moment, and Draco holds the eye contact calmly, silently. “Assuming you are both, then,” Potter finally continues, “I should explain what I need. I have a very demanding schedule these days. I spend nearly every evening at some sort of event, memorial or ball. I field many requests for dates from the most beautiful and eligible young men and women. Basically, I require an extremely competent cocksucker to keep my testicles drained at all times so I don’t get erections at embarrassing or compromising moments.
> 
> “The man I hire must be able to get me hard very quickly and easily. He must be able to get me off every time, without challenge, and to make the blow job last as long as I want or go as fast as I need. And of course, I require my professional cocksucker to swallow.” Draco smiles generously, but Potter continues on as though he has not seen. “You are very attractive, so you have that in your favour, but to obtain and keep this position you will need to have a large repertoire of cocksucking techniques, you will need to be extremely orally talented, and you will need to be available to my cock twenty-four hours a day.”
> 
> Still smiling, Draco nods. He still feels positive that this is exactly the right job for him.
> 
> Potter smiles thinly at Draco’s confidence. “How many different men have you sucked, then?”
> 
> “I have pleasured only one man with my mouth,” Draco admits. “But that man is myself, and that has given me the opportunity to learn everything you require in an employee.” 
> 
> “How have you managed that?” Potter asks, finally looking intrigued instead of impatient. 
> 
> “Time turner,” Draco answers plainly. 
> 
> “Do you still own it?” Potter asks, looking hopeful now. 
> 
> “Sadly, no,” Draco admits. “The Aurors confiscated it as potentially Dark, when they swept the Manor shortly before my exoneration at trial. Nonetheless, I had many hours of opportunity with the device, and as I was confined to my room while I had use of it, I used it almost exclusively for… masterbatory benefit.” Draco holds his head high, but he can feel his cheeks heat. 
> 
> “I see,” Potter declares, looking extremely intrigued. “I must say, the idea of a cock sucking expert with many hours of careful study under his belt, who nonetheless hasn’t actually sucked off a lot of men…. Suddenly your application has real appeal, Malfoy.” 
> 
> “I am pleased to hear that,” Draco says mildly. 
> 
> “Well,” Potter continues, leaning back in his chair and steepling his fingers. “As you know from reading the advertisement, I wish to test out promising candidates with a week long provisionary period. If you are still interested,” 
> 
> Draco nods once, and Potter smiles slightly. 
> 
> “Good, then I would like you to suck my cock right now. If I come, you should go home and pack for a week’s stay here. I will need you to remain confined to my home for the full week, even when I am not physically inside the house or on the grounds. 
> 
> “I will pay you a full week’s salary for this provisionary period. Two hundred seventy five galleons, plus room and board. If after a week of having you suck my cock I still want you to suck me off on a daily, or even hourly basis,” Potter pauses and gives Draco a look, as though to confirm that he understands how often his mouth is about to be stuffed full of Potter’s dick. 
> 
> Draco nods calmly and holds his smile inside. He’s fucked his own gorgeous mouth and tight throat enough times now to be quite sure that any man will want to hire him as their personal cocksucker. He longs to get on his knees for Potter right now and prove he is the right man, and mouth, for this job. 
> 
> “Then I will hire you at that time. Frankly, until now, I have yet to interview a potential cocksucker that I was even willing to take on for a probationary period. I have high hopes for the potential of this association. So,” Potter pushes his chair away from his desk. “Come suck my cock, Malfoy. I’m half hard from all this talk.” 
> 
> As his answer, Draco stands gracefully and walks around Potter’s heavy wooden desk. 

Draco tightened his grip on his dick and changed the spell on the dildo to fuck his arse harder and faster. Then, dissatisfied, he took the dildo out and made it thicker. More like Potter’s real cock. He raised his arse a bit higher with a pillow and settled back into his fantasy as the spell took over once more. 

> Draco kneels gracefully at Potter’s feet, pushes the other man’s outer robes aside, and then – with Potter’s forming erection still under cloth – he leans forward and breathes heavy, hot air directly at Potter’s cock. 
> 
> “Nice…” Potter breathes out, now sounding more relaxed. 
> 
> Draco begins to undo Potter’s fastenings, and soon he holds Potter’s erection – now nearly full – in his hand. He pulls it away from Potter’s tight stomach, pointing it toward his mouth. He needs to make this one really good. This is no time to coyly hold back on any of his skills. 
> 
> First Draco takes Potter’s big balls into his right hand and caresses Potter’s pleasantly large cock in his left. 

Jerking hard at his own erection, Draco reflected on how much more realistic Potter’s cock and balls were in his mind, now that he had enjoyed them in reality. Which was lucky, since he had no intention of ever enjoying them in reality again. “Clearly,” he thought, his smugness enhancing every twist and jerk of his hand, “I no longer need the real thing.” 

> Potter sighs happily, so Draco takes Potter’s cock well into his mouth, getting the man as wet as possible. Then, with his left hand wrapped firmly around the lower half of Potter’s erection, he jerks Potter off and sucks hard on the rest, enjoying the slightly bitter precome that begins to drip from the end of Potter’s dick. “Hmmmm,” he hums loudly, and Potter moans in pleasured surprise. 
> 
> Slowly, Draco does everything he knows he likes. He pulls on Potter’s ballsack, gently, then firmly, then – seeing what strong positive responses this receives – hard. He tries a touch of gentle tooth play. He varies the pressure in his mouth. He uses his nails gently against Potter’s sensitive skin. He hums multiple times, using it as a way to indicate that he is moving to show off a different technique. 
> 
> Finally, when Potter begins to look a bit wild eyed, Draco removes his hand from the lower half of Potter’s cock, and he hums, hard and loud, as he moves his mouth all the way down until Potter is into his throat and Draco’s lips are touching Potter’s wiry pubes. 
> 
> Then Draco reaches forward with both hands and grabs Potter’s arse, wordlessly encouraging him to let go and fuck Draco’s throat until he comes down it. 
> 
> “Gnuh,” Potter moans, and he pushes forward, nearly unseating himself. Draco doesn’t waver even slightly, despite Potter’s uncoordinated movements. “Gonna come soon.” 
> 
> Draco swallows once around Potter’s cock, saliva dripping everywhere. Nothing matters but pleasing Potter, getting him off, swallowing his come. 
> 
> Potter’s dick is so far down Draco’s throat that he won’t taste Potter’s come, which is unfortunate. As for Potter, he is thrashing a bit, his hands gripping the arms of his desk chair hard as he jerks forward into Draco’s wet and welcoming mouth over and over. 

Draco came hard over his own chest, passing out and then falling deeply asleep. Luckily he’d thought ahead and set his wand to wake him before Charms, so he wasn’t even late to class.

**Part the third: Wherein Harry and Draco are total sex fiends for each other.  
(And the whole school is going to know it as soon as Pansy gets to breakfast.)**

On Tuesday night a few hours after dinner, Potter found Draco leaving the library, pulled him behind a tapestry in a nearly deserted hallway, and snogged him. Draco put Potter’s hands on his arse and ran away after he came. Luckily for Potter, Draco orgasmed second. 

On Wednesday, Draco followed Potter down an empty hall, ogling his arse until Potter turned around. Then Potter pushed him up against a wall, groped his arse and snogged him until they heard someone else’s footsteps. Draco found running away a lot more challenging when he was hard.

On Thursday, Potter tricked Draco into following him into an empty room, claiming it was about a Potions question. But once the door was closed Potter yanked Draco to the floor and they kissed and rubbed against each other and squeezed each other’s arses – trying not to make noise and failing – until Draco came and he ran away in terror again. 

Draco’s arse was even more sensitive in real life than in fantasy. 

On Friday, Draco was absolutely determined not to so much as touch Potter, and in order to succeed he took all his meals in the kitchen and travelled between classes with Pansy on his arm. But as he was finishing the dinner a house-elf had made for him, Potter burst into the kitchen and stalked over. 

“No!” Draco said, alarmed. “We have to stop! I won’t!”

Potter leaned over, his palms flat on the table. “Why?” he asked, and Draco couldn’t think of a single reason, even though he knew he had plenty of them. “I… can’t remember,” he said, feeling short of breath. Then he remembered. “But I have a list! I have thirteen reasons! I wrote them all down!”

“Then perhaps,” Potter said, grinning, “you should take me to your dorm room and show me the list?”

Draco was pretty sure this was an awful idea, but he had written the list for a reason, hadn’t he? Except, on the way to the dungeon, he thought they could take a shortcut through a narrow stone passageway and who knew how pleasant it was to press your bare arse against cool stone walls while Harry Potter tried to learn how to suck cock? He knew. That’s who.

It was more than pleasant. It was fucking brilliant.

\- *** - *** - *** - *** - *** - *** - *** - *** - *** - *** - *** - *** - *** - *** -

Draco was starting to think that it wasn’t so much that he had a thing for Harry Potter. It was simply a matter of wanting someone to touch his bare arse. Caress it, grab it, pat it, pry it open, fuck it hard….

Where was he going, again? Right. Herbology. He walked faster.

\- *** - *** - *** - *** - *** - *** - *** - *** - *** - *** - *** - *** - *** - *** -

On Saturday, Draco hid inside his bed curtains all day. He did homework, ate food he’d managed to hoard under stasis charms, napped on and off, and successfully avoided everyone. Eventually though, it was well after midnight and he felt grotty and restless. Surely Potter had been asleep for a long time by now? He snuck off to the Prefect’s Bath in a dressing gown. 

He’d only been in there ten minutes when Potter opened the door, bold as brass and wearing his own dressing gown. 

Draco sighed. He was naked in the bath, he’d been wanking, they were alone and it was nearly one in the morning. “Fine,” he sighed, making sure that Potter could well hear his put-upon tone. “I suppose you can come in here with me.”

Potter dropped his dressing gown on the tiled floor and grinned. Underneath he was completely nude and not completely flaccid. He jumped into the bath, strode over to Draco, and pressed up against him. 

“Oh,” Draco sighed as their wet, soapy bodies made contact. He truly loved jerking off in the bath, but somehow, this was better. “Grab my…” but he didn’t have to finish his sentence. Harry was touching his arse. 

“Fuuck...” Harry said when he found the handle of Draco’s dildo. 

“All right,” Draco said, distracted by Harry’s hands, and the way he was slowly pulling the fat dildo from Draco’s arse. “You mean it?” Harry said. When Draco nodded shyly he stopped talking and starting taking charge. He kissed Draco, caressed one of Draco’s arse cheeks, lifted Draco’s left leg to pull it around his waist, and pushed the dildo back in once. He watched Draco’s jaw go slack and eyes unfocus. Then he pulled the dildo out, took his own cock in hand, whispered a protection spell Draco had read about, and began to rub the hard tip of his dick into the sensitive rim of Draco’s arsehole. 

“Good?” He asked. 

“Fuck me. Really hard. Please,” Draco said, and pulled himself to a better angle by tightening the leg he still had around Harry Potter’s naked, wet waist. 

Draco was almost dismayed to learn that whilst naked, Harry had not only a cock, but kisses, hands, words, teeth and … a whole body, really. With lots of warm skin, strong muscles, big hands and loud appreciation for Draco’s beauty, tightness, heat and pretty mouth. Thus making naked Harry a great deal more sexually satisfying than a mere dildo. 

Wanking was a wonderful thing: to come while a lovely dildo fucked him hard, his own hand jerked at his dick, and he filled his mind with fabulous pornography. 

But it was echelons higher, waves deeper into pleasure, to have Harry Potter pour his sexuality into your tight arse via a gorgeous, hot, thick, curved dick. And all the while, said Harry Potter was kissing him, grabbing his arse, pulling his leg up high, biting his mouth and neck and ear, moaning his gratitude and pleasure and calling Draco “beautiful. So ridiculously fucking beautiful.” Not to mention fucking him. 

It turned out, Draco really, really loved getting fucked. 

This wasn’t a sur _prise_... so much as it was _a surprise_. 

And if that didn’t make sense right now it would make sense later. As long as he didn’t ever have to explain it to anyone other than himself. 

Draco came hard while Harry fucked him hard. Harry wasn’t done, so Draco just held on and marvelled at how good it all felt, even though he’d come and he was pretty sure that he would be sore tomorrow. 

Harry wasn’t just fucking, him, either. It was a little like being worshipped. When Harry wasn’t sucking kisses into Draco’s shoulders while simultaneously fucking slowly into his arse, he was breathily praising Draco’s beauty or biting Draco’s neck. Soon Harry slowed down his thrusts and pounded Draco’s arse really hard, staying all the way inside Draco’s arse for long heartbeats before pulling out and slamming back in again. 

Then Harry came, bellowing. Stuttering. Weeping a bit. “Merlin. Fuck. Thank you. Oh Draco, thank you. Thank you so much.” 

Harry kissed Draco one more time. This time on the mouth. His cock was starting to slip from Draco’s arse and Draco kissed Harry back as intently as he wanted. He gave no thought whatsoever to the next moment, only poured his satisfaction and joy into Harry’s mouth the way Harry had poured come into Draco’s arse. 

“That was amazing,” Harry finally said, as he eased Draco’s leg down and helped Draco find his balance on Harry’s shoulders and against the back of the tub. 

“Of course it was,” Draco said, smugly, and Harry laughed. 

Then Harry kissed Draco again and all smugness was forgotten. Draco held tightly to Harry’s shoulders as they kissed. Then his hands began to move downward. Soon they were frotting their cocks together gently as they kissed, their arses tightly held in one another’s grasping palms, and Draco started to wish that Harry would slip a finger inside him. 

“Up for another round?” Draco finally asked, feeling Harry harden against his stomach. 

“Jesus, yes,” Harry said, and this time they did it on top of their dressing gowns, with a strong cushioning charm and a silencing charm too. 

\- *** - *** - *** - *** - *** - *** - *** - *** - *** - *** - *** - *** - *** - *** -

Harry Potter insisted upon walking Draco back to the entrance to Slytherin after their second fuck. He insisted upon kissing Draco goodbye. He insisted upon doing so in a tender and affectionate manner.

Draco allowed him.

Nonetheless, Draco was quite surprised to find Harry Potter waiting for him in the hallway outside Slytherin when he and Pansy stepped out the next morning. 

Draco pulled himself to his full height in surprise, and Pansy had real difficulty hiding her confusion. Draco found his imaginary crown and concentrated, erasing all the lines from his forehead and putting the iron back into his spine. “Can I help you, Potter?” He inquired, sounding – he thought – perfectly detached and polite. 

He did not at all expect to see Potter’s face crumple in miserable dismay. 

“I say!” Draco said, but Potter simply looked up at him with suspiciously damp, puppy-dog eyes. 

“Pansy,” Draco said, feeling slightly helpless despite his crown, which seemed to have gone somewhat crooked, “I wonder if I could trouble you to go on to breakfast without me.” 

Pansy probably reacted, but Draco realized too late that, in order to know what Pansy’s face was doing, he would need to look at it.

When he’d heard Pansy’s shoes click off up the corridor, Draco took Harry Potter by the hand and dragged him down the wrong way, toward the dead end where people rarely went. 

“I say,” he tried again. “What is this all about?” 

“I thought,” Potter said slowly, “we could have breakfast together.” 

“But…” Draco sputtered. “But then… people would _know_!” He felt his face turning bright red and knew he’d dropped his crown down the corridor somewhere, lost and dusty. 

“Are you saying you don’t want people to know?” Potter said, sounding lost.

“Are you saying you _do_ want people to know?”

Potter and Draco stared at one another, and, as Draco felt his face heating and his spine solidifying, he watched as Potter’s eyes drained of hope and his smile drained of happiness.

“I just…” Draco tried helplessly, “assumed that I was, you know, one of your many conquests, and that…”

“I haven’t got any ‘conquests’,” Potter said in a flat voice.

Draco put his hands on his hips and looked Potter in the eye. “I understand that you’re much too much of a goody two-shoes to call someone a _conquest_ ,” he said carefully, “but I think you know what I meant.”

“Why does everyone insist that I’ve fucked half of London?” Potter wailed, looking at the ceiling. “Draco,” he paused and took a large, visible breath. Then he looked Draco right in the eyes, no tease or snark anywhere on his face. “I was a virgin until last night. In the bath. With you.”

Draco was sure that he would say something perfectly eviscerating any minute now, but first he needed to both find his crown _and_ close his mouth properly.

Finally his brain found a good word, and he spoke it. “No.”

Potter looked confused now, and he paused. “What do you mean, ‘no’?” 

Draco huffed and rolled his eyes. “I mean No, Potter. No! ‘No,’ that’s not true, ‘no,’ I don’t believe you, ‘no,’ that’s not possible. Just… no!” 

Potter softened, somehow, and he tried to take Draco’s hand in his own. Draco let him after a moment of confusion, and found himself staring at their hands. Potter was holding on but Draco’s hand lay passive in Potter’s grasp. He looked up and met Potter’s eyes. He couldn’t quite comprehend the softness he saw there. 

“Draco,” Potter said quietly. “Even though there have been a lot of rumours and talk, I really was a virgin. I haven’t had sex with Ginny, or Neville, or anyone else you think I’ve had sex with. I was a virgin until we, er… made love last night.” Potter’s face bloomed bright rose red as he spoke the words ‘made love,’ but his eye contact didn’t waver once. 

Draco was almost tempted to believe him. 

“I almost believe you,” he said, then wondered if that had been a good idea. Potter looked very surprised. 

“But,” Draco paused. His list of thirteen reasons not to fuck Potter had centered around the assumption that Potter was a complete slag. It also might have been just the slightest bit repetitive.

“It’s a bit hard to believe, what with what everyone _else_ says about you,” he finally tried.

Potter sighed, but he looked resigned, not annoyed. “I can understand that,” he said. “I’ve been dealing with gossip since I first got here.” Then a gleam came into his eyes. “But, you know, an awful lot of that gossip came from you. Didn’t it?” 

Draco blushed. Hard.

“So perhaps that gives you a hint about how reliable _this_ gossip is.”

Draco had to acknowledge that this was a damn good point.

“If I really was a virgin last night, which I totally was, would you be willing to walk to breakfast with me?” Potter squeezed Draco’s limp hand, reminding Draco that Potter was still holding onto it.

“Er,” Draco said, and looked down at their hands. The primary problem had suddenly radically changed. Before, he was refusing to be toyed with. Now he had to decide if he could really stand to have everything he’d ever wanted. Not that he’d ever admitted wanting it before. 

And really, when he thought about it like that….

“You know,” he said slowly, as something important occurred to him, “speaking of gossip, Pansy saw the beginning of this conversation.”

“And then she went off to breakfast….” Potter added.

“While the two of us stayed behind to talk….”

“And since it’s Sunday everyone will be hanging around eating for a long while. Nowhere better to be and the food is nicer than usual….” Potter said, and Draco heard his stomach growl once. “And I’m sure we looked pretty flustered….”

“So she already knows!” Draco exclaimed at the same moment that Potter cried out –

“So she’s already told everyone!”

“Which means,” Potter continued, a satisfied and sly look on his face, “that there is no point in hiding this.”

“Or ending it,” Draco suggested.

“You wanted to end this?” Potter said, a look of dismay eating his smile.

Instead of telling Potter the truth, which would take too long and just make him sad, Draco looked into Potter’s eyes and thought about the situation he’d managed to find himself in. Harry Potter wanted to waltz in to Sunday breakfast at Hogwarts with him. Presumably _holding hands_ with him. He’d apparently lost his virginity with a virginal Harry. It had been spectacular. And Pansy had almost certainly told the whole school about them anyway. Was there any way to salvage this situation _other_ than running with it? Draco rather doubted it. 

So Draco started walking forward, and, confused, Harry stepped back once, then twice, then his back connected with the corridor’s stone wall. 

Draco grasped Harry’s right hand with his left, then took hold of Harry’s left hand with his right. Then he crowded in close and kissed Harry delicately on the lips.

“Mmm…” Harry said. “Does that mean you _will_ have breakfast with me?”

Draco smiled his best, most predatory smile, and stepped in closer so their cocks were pressing in to one another. He put one hand into Harry’s messy hair. “Yes,” he said into Harry’s ear. Then he licked it. He loosened Harry’s tie and nibbled at Harry’s lower lip. 

Harry opened his mouth and Draco considered diving in, but then he remembered how much more delightful real sex was, in comparison to a quick fumble in a hallway. He pulled back a bit and frowned.

“As lovely as this is,” he began, and Harry looked crushed. “No, not that,” he soothed. “I was just going to say that we are both really hungry, and that I’d rather do this for real, and naked, and after we eat. All right?”

“More than,” Harry said, and now he was grinning ear to ear. “Though walking will be a little uncomfortable for a moment. But I can handle it, if it means a repeat of last night, and getting to walk into the Great Hall with you, holding your hand.” He squeezed Draco’s hand and looked up into Draco’s eyes, hope in his eyes and pink in his cheeks.

“That’s….” Draco took a deep breath and smiled. “That’s _exactly_ what it means. Harry.”

.

.

.

.

The End

\- *** - *** - *** - *** - *** - *** - *** - *** - *** - *** - *** - *** - *** - *** -

**Author's Note:**

> [Please return to the community to leave a comment!](http://hd-eighthyear.livejournal.com/7335.html)


End file.
